A Day Out of Time
by supersteffy
Summary: Bakura decides to spend his Valentine's Day on a date instead of scheming with Marik, but Marik isn't about to let this mystery date steal his partner in crime away! Abridged characters, but light on the parody. Rated T for minor swearing. One-Shot.


AN: FINALLY! This was _suppose_ to be up shortly after Valentine's Day, but since I was in the middle of a move and then had issues getting my internet set up at my new place, I'm getting it up almost a month late. Sorry! Thanks to sitabethel for beta'ing this! If you haven't checked out the story she wrote for Valentine's Day, you should give it a read! (She actually posts things on time!) As always critical feedback is always appreciated! Happy belated Valentine's Day!

* * *

Marik pounced on the bed Bakura had been sleeping on. "Guess what day it is, Bakura?!" He barely paused for a response before answering his own question. "It's Valentine's Day! I've got a new plan to defeat the Pharaoh! We'll make a fake profile on an online dating site and ask Yugi on a date! But when he goes to the restaurant, we'll stand him up. He'll be so heartbroken! It will ruin his WHOLE VALENTINE'S DAY!"

"Marik," Bakura sighed, rubbing his eyes and trying not to choke the pretty, dumb blonde for waking him up. "First off, Yugi's only seventeen—I don't think he uses dating sites. Secondly, why wouldn't you just stick a fake love letter in his locker or something? Lastly, I already have plans for Valentine's Day."

"A letter in his locker? That's not nearly diabolical enou—Wait, what?!" Marik stopped bouncing and stared at Bakura like he'd turned into an alien. "What do you mean you have plans? You never have plans!"

"Well, today I do, so if you don't mind…" Bakura moved the blanket and started to sit up, but Marik pushed him back down. "The fuck, Marik?'

"Are these _evil _plans?" he asked suspiciously.

"What if they are?"

Marik sat back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest, hiking up his lavender crop top in the process. Bakura licked his lips unconsciously.

"You and I are partners in crime, Bakura! You made a commitment! You can't just go and do evil with whoever you want, whenever you feel like it!"

"Marik, we've been over this: we never agreed that this partnership was mutually exclusive, so I _can_ do evil with whoever and whenever I please!"

A hurt expression crossed Marik's face. "Are my evil plans not good enough for you anymore?"

Bakura sighed deeply. "Of course, they are. It's a date."

"What is?"

"My plans! I'm going on a date."

Marik froze as he made sense of Bakura's words. "Like a _date _DATE?! With who?"

"I believe you mean, with whom."

"I mean, who the hell would go on a date with you?"

Bakura jolted as the question struck him. "Well, I didn't realize the idea was so distasteful," he snarled.

Marik blinked and put up his hands like a shield. "It's not—I mean, that wasn't what I—who are you going out with?"

"It's none of your concern. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready."

Bakura pushed Marik to the side with his coverlet before heading for the bathroom to shower.

* * *

Bakura adjusted the slate and silver striped tie for what seemed the thousandth time. Still not satisfied, he tossed it onto his bed beside the six others he'd already discarded.

"Fuck it," he muttered, undoing the top two buttons and fluffing his collar. He heard the soft shuffle of feet on carpet as Marik appeared in the mirror, reflected from his spot in the open doorway.

"So when is your, uh, date?"

"In about half an hour." Bakura watched Marik while adjusting his cuffs, pleased with the way the deep red of the button up looked against his host's skin.

Marik fidgeted in place, his eyes peeking at Bakura from beneath the safety of his lashes. "Are they picking you up?"

Bakura adjusted his cufflink one last time before turning to face Marik. "I'm walking to the restaurant; we'll be meeting there. Excuse me." He pushed past Marik, beyond the living room, and toward the door where his coat was draped over a coat rack. Bakura reached for the door handle, and Marik's chest felt strangely tight.

"Wait!"

Bakura paused and glanced back.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time on this stupid date? Wouldn't you rather…TP Yugi's house?" Marik asked, thinking fast.

"And what would that accomplish?"

"His house and yard will be a mess. He will have no choice but to spend Valentine's Day cleaning it up!"

Bakura shook his head, a tiny grin tilting the corner of his mouth. "No. Good night, Marik. Don't wait up."

"Wait! But don't you—" Marik stopped when the door shut in his face. "Nrrr! FINE! Go have your stupid dinner date. See if I care!"

All of three seconds passed before his anger faded to nervous curiosity.

What if Bakura's date was prettier than Marik? Wait, that was impossible! But, what if they were a villain? A sexy villain who convinced Bakura to do evil things without Marik? Well, that wasn't going to happen! Not if Marik Sebastian Ishtar III had anything to say about it! Bakura was _his_ partner in crime!

Mind made up, Marik quietly snuck out of the apartment and caught up to Bakura a block up the road. Entering super-secret, stealthy mode, he followed Bakura to the restaurant.

* * *

The bush poked and prickled at his exposed arms and lower torso as Marik crouched beside the window. The wind picked up for a few seconds and crawled up his crop top, making him shiver violently. Marik was starting to regret his sexy-yet-very-unseasonable outfit.

His attention snagged when he saw Bakura take his seat at a table near the center of the main room. As Bakura sat, his long black coat nowhere in sight, Marik noticed the way his skin seemed to glow in the candlelight on the table, the deep wine color of his shirt enhancing the effect.

Marik shook the thought away. He waited all of three minutes for the mystery person to arrive before he figured he might as well wait inside where it was warm.

"Do you have a reservation?" a tall man in an immaculate suit asked, eyeing Marik's unusual outfit with poorly concealed disapproval.

"Um…" Glancing around the immediate area, Marik noticed a name plate announcing Steve as his greeter for the evening. An evil grin spread across Marik's face as he pulled the Millennium Rod from the hammer space in the back of his pants. "As a matter of fact, I do," he lied, leveling the Rod at the man. "It's under Sexy McGorgeous, Binky Boy. Look it up!"

The man grimaced and checked his list. "I'm sorry sir, but there is no reservation under that name," he responded, sounding not in the least bit sorry. "Is there another name you would like me to check under?"

"The FRIG it's not there!" Marik shoved the Rod right up to the guys face. "I command it to be there!"

Annoyed beyond the point of politeness, the man pushed the artifact away from his face roughly. "I'm sorry, sir, but if you don't have a reservation, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Marik's hands flew to his hips. "Listen here, Steve. I don't know what sort of powers you have, but no Steve disobeys me and gets away with it!"

"It's probably because his name's not Steve."

Marik whipped around at Bakura's amused voice behind him. "Bakura! Uh, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same."

"I asked first!"

"I'm waiting for my date," Bakura replied, his eyes flicking to the aggravated man glaring at Marik. "He's with me."

The man half-bowed. "Of course, sir."

"Come on." Bakura led the way back to his table, and Marik shuffled after him, taking in all the impressively shiny décor.

Taking his seat, Bakura watched as Marik shifted his feet like a guilty child.

"How did you know I was here?" Marik asked.

Bakura snorted and took a drink of water. "Marik, with all the noise you were making at the door, I'd be surprised if the entire city didn't know you were here."

"It wasn't my fault! That guy's name thingy said his name was Steve!"

"A slight oversight by the staff, I'm sure," Bakura answered, hiding a grin behind folded hands.

Marik licked his lips and touched the fingers of one hand to the thick fabric draping the table. "So, uh, do you mind if I wait with you? You know, just until your—_date_—gets here."

Bakura smiled, a genuine smile for once. His eyes were gleaming from the candles in the table's center piece. "Suit yourself."

Marik sat and leaned the chair back on its hind legs, and Bakura made a rebuking noise in his throat until Marik let it fall back to all fours. He looked around at the pristine white cloth covering the tables, the mood-lit atmosphere, and the other patrons batting lashes and playing footsy beneath tables. Suddenly he felt more uncomfortable sitting across from Bakura than standing.

Bakura simply watched Marik watch the other people as his internal struggle played across his face.

"I never would have expected you to pick a place like this," Marik piped up. "It looks really fancy."

"It looks better now," Bakura ventured boldly, his hands folded in front of him to keep from taking Marik's.

Marik's eyes flitted to Bakura's and away, Marik's cheeks tinting mauve. He scanned the room, searching for Bakura's mystery date. "Uh, I hate to say it, Bakura, but I don't think your date is going to show."

Bakura grinned broader, showing teeth. "Oh, he's already here."

"What?! Where?" Marik searched more frantically, scouting the couples that had just entered the restaurant. "I don't see him."

"Marik."

Marik turned to look at Bakura. Bakura's grin was gone, replaced with an anxious look Marik had never before seen the spirit display. Then it hit him what Bakura was implying, and his eyes shot wide.

Before Bakura could even respond, Marik had pushed from the table and stood. "I-I have to go! I have to plan the next Evil Council meeting and—"

This time Bakura _did_ grab Marik's hand. People were beginning to gawk, but Bakura ignored them.

"Sit. Please," he added when Marik still looked ready to run for it.

There was a slight hesitation before Marik reclaimed his chair. Seeing that nothing exciting was going to happen, the other customers lost interest and went back to their own dates.

Bakura picked up his menu and watched Marik carefully over it for signs that he might try and leave again.

"Are you hungry? Get anything you want—my treat."

Truth be told, Marik's stomach was too tied up in knots for hunger. He opened the menu anyway and looked blankly at the selections, not really seeing them. "This isn't a date," he clarified.

Bakura lowered his menu and raised an eyebrow. "And why not? It's Valentine's Day, after all. Think of it as…a day out of time."

Marik's face scrunched up, the menu forgotten. "A what?"

"It's like a time out. We have this one date today—a full, _real_ date—and then tomorrow we go back to how things were."

"But I'm straight," Marik insisted for the hundredth time.

Bakura resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he laid his hand gently on top of the one Marik had resting on the table. Marik watched their joined hands, but said nothing, swallowing hard.

"For one day…pretend you're not?"

The urge to throw off Bakura's hand fought with the curious desire to hold it in return. He compromised by simply pulling it back and drinking some water. "I-I suppose one date wouldn't hurt—but we never speak of it after! I have a reputation to uphold, and my fangirls might lose interest in me if they think we're dating."

"Right," Bakura muttered. He picked up his menu and gestured for Marik to do the same. "Figure out what you want."

Following Bakura's lead, Marik scanned for something he recognized. Most of it was in French, which was stupid considering they were in Japan. Why would the restaurant write their menu in French when everyone here spoke English?

"Pardon me, sirs. Are you ready to order?"

Marik started and glared over his menu at the waiter that had just appeared at their table. He was dressed like Not-Steve's double, from his too-shiny shoes to his serious expression. Was it in the job description that you had to look constipated all the time?

"I believe I'll have the _choucroute garnie*_," Bakura spoke up.

The waiter nodded and turned to Marik expectantly.

"Um…" Marik glanced at the menu in incomprehension, then back to the impatient waiter. "Do you have a kids menu?"

Bakura gaffawed into his water and choked a bit. Once he had recovered, his red face was smiling again. "He'll have the same."

The waiter jotted down the order and left with the menus.

Marik leaned over the table. "I don't even know what we just ordered," he confided in a loud whisper, and Bakura grinned wider.

"Don't worry, you'll like it. It's mostly meat with some potatoes and sauerkraut."

"Oh. That doesn't sound too bad." Marik's face felt warm, so he took another sip of water.

"So…What do people usually do on dates?" Marik wondered, his feet twisting and untwisting beneath the table.

"Well, that depends on the date. On one such as this, they normally talk about themselves in order to get to know each other."

Marik scrunched his face at Bakura. "But we already know each other."

"Well, we can get to know each other better," Bakura purred back.

"I already know everything about you."

Bakura sat up straighter and frowned. "You don't know everything about me!"

Marik tilted his head. "Ok, not everything. Just the things that really matter."

Bakura wasn't sure what Marik meant by that. "Well, then let's discuss inconsequential matters." Bakura leaned forward to rest his chin on netted fingers, his elbows on the table, etiquette be damned. "Have you ever read a book?—scriptures and yaoi comics notwithstanding."

Marik fiddled with his beige fabric napkin. "Well, I like those Goosebump books…they're like horror movies, only in a book and without pictures. I tried reading a play by that Shake-spear guy, but the words were funny and confusing, so I stopped."

Bakura nodded. "You might like adult horror stories then. I have a collection of H. P. Lovecraft you could borrow."

"Is that the Cthulhu guy?"

"Yes."

Marik thoughtfully sipped his water. "Hey, Bakura? Do you think that Cthulhu and the Flying Spaghetti Monster are related?"

Bakura snorted a surprised laugh. "What?"

"Well, I mean, based on the images I've seen for them, the look similar. Do you think they're siblings, or simply cousins?"

Choosing to humor Marik's odd philosophical topic, Bakura replied, "Cthulhu is far older than the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Obviously the Flying Spaghetti Monster is Cthulhu's son."

Marik laughed, the silly conversation calming his nerves. "Perhaps they aren't related after all," Marik hypothesized. "Maybe they're boyfriends."

Bakura's moonlit brows shot into his hairline. "Even if they are romantically involved, what makes you think they're both male?"

Marik shrugged. "Just a hunch."

"Or perhaps one of them is female, and they are the origin of all other monsters."

"Don't be ridiculous! There's no way something as cool as Cthulhu is a smelly girl, and the Flying Spaghetti Monster looks like a boy."

"Whatever you say, Marik."

The waiter arrived and set a steaming plate in front of each of them. Marik picked at his plate, both because his appetite was stunted tonight and because he wasn't sure if he liked sauerkraut. Then Bakura claimed his attention as he began cutting up his meat into pieces and eating them one at a time. Marik simply gawked. After a few bites, Bakura noticed.

He swallowed his food before asking, "What?"

Marik shook his head until he remembered how to speak. "You…you cut up your meat," he stumbled out.

"Yes…" Bakura said slowly, grinning slightly. "And?"

"And you're eating like a normal person!"

"Well, this _is_ an expensive restaurant. I figured manners were called for."

"Then next time don't pick such a fancy place. You're weirding me out." Marik again copied Bakura and cut up his meat.

Bakura smirk and sipped some water. "Next time? I thought this was to be a one-time occasion?"

Marik froze in the middle of taking a bite. "O-of course it is! I just meant next time we go out to eat. You know, as partners. Non-dating evil-doing partners!"

"Naturally." Bakura returned to his food, his eyes never leaving Marik.

He watched in amusement as the childish blonde braved the sauerkraut, which he immediately looked like he wanted to spit back out.

"Swallow it," Bakura ordered, his eyes warning of serious ramifications should Marik not listen. His face slightly green, Marik did, chasing the small bite with the last of his water. Glaring at the sauerkraut, Marik tried everything else on his plate with the skepticism most people might reserve for _escargot_ and caviar.

Once they had finished eating—Bakura's plate empty and Marik's cleaned of all save the 'smelly-krout'—a waiter came to remove their plates.

"Would you care for any dessert? The _teurgoule*_ has proved quite popular this evening."

Bakura glanced at Marik. "Up to you. Do you want dessert?"

Marik thought about it, then shook his head. "I think I've had enough weird food for one night. We can stop and get ice cream on the way home."

Bakura grinned as the waiter scowled. "Sounds like a plan." He handed a couple of bills to the waiter and told him to 'keep the change', partly because it was easier than figuring out tip, and partly because the cliché fit the moment.

On the way out they stopped for Bakura to retrieve his coat from Not-Steve, and Marik stuck his tongue out at the guy when Bakura wasn't watching. Not-Steve was helpless to do anything but glower, and Marik smirked as he and Bakura left the hoity-toity restaurant.

* * *

Marik tried to keep from shivering as the winter air pelted him with icy blasts, but now and then a small tremor would take him anyway. Bakura took notice.

"Why the hell aren't you wearing a jacket?"

"A jacket would cover up my abs, Bakura! That's an important part of my sexiness!"

Bakura frowned sidelong at him before heaving a heavy sigh and stripping off his trench coat. "Yeah, well, you're going to freeze your abs off without one." He stopped and held the coat out to Marik, who debated silently with himself before accepting.

"Won't you get cold?"

"My shirt has sleeves; I'll be fine."

"You're being very un-you-like tonight, Fluffy," Marik noted as they continued on. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing yet," he muttered, his trademark smirk pulling at his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just letting my hair down, so to speak."

Marik's face contorted into a confused pout. "But your hair is always like that. I've never seen you wear it up."

"It's an expression, Marik. It means I'm taking a break from being evil—for the most part."

"Can you do that?"

Bakura shrugged. "Why not? I'm fully capable of being civilized—I just choose not to be. It's much more fun being evil."

"I like being evil too, but it's more fun since we became partners."

Bakura flicked his eyes at Marik. "Oh?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong. Odion is a great henchman and all, but he's not fun like you are. Mostly he stands there and agrees with everything I say."

"True, but as you say, he is your henchman—I'm not."

Marik nodded. "You're my partner. Still, you could learn a thing or two from Odion about agreeing with me."

Bakura snorted.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the apartment, both deciding it was too cold for ice cream. Bakura held the door for Marik, who took it in stride. Once the door was shut and locked behind them, Marik stripped off Bakura's coat and fidgeted with it.

"So, is this the end of the date?"

Bakura shrugged, eyes glowing with calculating hope. "It doesn't have to be."

"If it didn't end, what would come next?"

Bakura swallowed and thought his next move over carefully. "Well, we could always watch a movie."

Marik nodded slowly. "Yeah, a movie sounds good."

Bakura reached out and took his coat to hang up. "Good. You go pick one out and I'll make popcorn."

Marik scampered off toward the living room to search through the video cabinet. They'd seen every video at least once, most of them multiple times. After much deliberation, he finally settled on Cannibal Holocaust since he knew it was Bakura's favorite—it was the least he could do since Bakura had bought him dinner.

Marik popped the DVD in as the smell of butter and salt drifted into the living room. Taking a seat on one end of the couch, he used the remote to skip to the menu screen.

Bakura brought in the steaming bowl and took a seat directly beside Marik.

"Move over, Fluffy," Marik grumped, pushing Bakura toward the other end of the sofa. "You're taking up the whole couch."

"I'm just sitting next to you," Bakura argued, popping a handful of puffed kernels into his mouth. "It's easier to share popcorn this way. Deal with it."

Marik huffed as the movie started playing, but he grudgingly took a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Bakura's lap.

Bakura only paid the movie minimal attention, most of his concentration focused on Marik, who forgot quickly about being annoyed with Bakura as he became engrossed in the images flashing on the screen. Pretending to stretch, Bakura arranged his arm across Marik's shoulders.

Marik stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"My arm needed a place to rest. Besides, this _is_ still a date. It's perfectly normal to cuddle on dates." Bakura began stroking one finger up and down Marik's arm. A secret smile played across his lips when Marik shivered.

Marik tried to focus on the movie, but his attention kept drifting to the finger teasing his arm, the warm body pressed up against his side, and the even breaths that tickled his neck as Bakura leaned in to nuzzle his hair.

"Stop it, Kitty!" Marik ordered, pushing Bakura back a bit. "I'm trying to watch the movie."

"Oh, am I distracting you?" Bakura ran his finger down Marik's side as he kissed below his ear.

"YES! Now stop being an idiom, and watch the movie like a good Binky Boy."

"…You mean, idiot?"

"YOU are the idiot!"

"You know what? Sod the movie. I've got a better idea."

"Like what?"

"This." Bakura pulled Marik's face close and kissed him fast, his lips a brief sensation against Marik's before he pulled back for a reaction. Marik blinked at him, his face flickering between outrage and uncertainty.

"The frig, Bakura! You can't just kiss people without permission!"

That was a better response than Bakura had expected. Grin sharpening, he leaned close again for the joy of seeing Marik flinch. "May I have permission?"

"I, uh…" Marik blinked at Bakura's confidently tilted lips, licking his own unsurely. Bakura's one hand played at Marik's hip while the other cradled his head, holding him spellbound. Finally Marik met Bakura's eyes, the whiskey brown dappled with scenes from the forgotten television. "Yes?"

Bakura's smirk was victorious as he leaned close, pressing Marik's body as close as he could manage before his mouth dipped against Marik's.

A small breath whispered from Marik as Bakura grew bolder, his fingers slipping beneath Marik's top and teasing along the bottom of Marik's scars. "Bakura…" One finger slipped up along Marik's spine, and Marik leaned his forehead against Bakura's shoulder, his breathing broken and fast.

Bakura stilled his hand when Marik shook against him. "Marik?"

"I'm fine," he breathed, but Bakura still didn't move.

Finally, Marik sat up straight and met Bakura's eyes once more, his own lavender gaze fair glowing with energy. "I didn't order you to stop." This time Marik was the one to pull close, his mouth returning to Bakura's of its own will.

They stayed like that for a stretch of time that was both slow and long, and yet passed by in a flash. When they finally broke apart, Marik held a hand to Bakura's borrowed cheek, and locked their eyes.

"Bakura…"

Bakura licked his lips. "What?" he breathed.

"This is only for tonight. Once we wake up tomorrow, everything goes back to the way it was—you promised."

Bakura sighed, and Marik imaged he saw regret and a tinge of sorrow behind those normally sharp, cold eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the default smirk.

"Whatever you wish, Marik."

Marik smiled back and kissed Bakura again before leading him to Marik's bedroom.

* * *

1._ Choucroute garnie: _Sauerkrout surrounded by sausages, salt pork, and potatoes.

2._ Teurgoule: _A rice pudding made with rice, milk, sugar, and cinnamon.


End file.
